Heaven's Light
by opaquesoul93
Summary: Celeste has been an outcast since she moved to Paris years ago and it has never really grown on her. But after she meets Clopin, King of Beggers, Paris seems much nicer with a gypsy around. But can the daughter of a royal guard and gypsy king's love last?
1. Outcaste

The air was crisp with winter. Even in the chill of the morning the sun shined brightly giving the day a unique warmth. The middle class life of Paris was busy as usually. Tradesmen were bartering and selling and townsfolk were buying. But not Celeste. She has always been as unique as the absent warmth of the winter sun. Instead of running errands she was listening to a reciting poet and was, as usual, his only audience.

"So here is my latest," the young poet said. He pulled out another piece of parchment from a pile under his arm. He was handsome man with wavy light brown hair and a kind face and a slim but rough nose. His eyes were dark and sparkled with wisdom. Celeste however was the only one who would bother to listen. "An Ode to Juno from Jupiter."

"Hmm, I don't really care for Juno." Celeste criticized.

"You don't like Juno? The Queen of the Gods? She was quite the women, much like yourself. Independent, tough, unique, exquisite." His eyes got wide, "I feel inspired! Celeste, her blue eyes like holy light, locks of brown curls of bark from shavings of dogwood, God's tree. Her olive skin like that of a Roman goddess, Juno in the flesh."

"Needs work Gringore. I hardly find myself worthy of poetry or to be compared to Juno." She grabbed her basket and turned to head back into the market. Gringore joined her at her side.

"I thought you didn't care for Juno."

"I don't."

"Then what goddess shall I compare you to?" Celeste bit her lip with a shy hesitant smile and turned to him. "Diana." She answered. "She's my favorite."

"Ah, I should have known. Goddess of the hunt. I fine girl she was. I fact, she cut her hair to be like a man's. Much like or habit of dressing like one."

"I am wearing my dress and apron today."

"You have hose under don't you?" She paused on the side of the road. She pulled up her dress just above her boot to reveal her dark green pants that her father had wanted to throw out. She smiled. "Indeed, you caught me."

"There she is." A high pitched girl screamed. "I found her Marquel!" A blonde girl with bouncing bangs and bonnet pulled herself out of the crowd with a young slim French boy holding her hand. They ran up to Celeste and Gringore. "Gabriella, don't draw so much attention to yourself."

"Sorry Celeste. Marquel and I were just out for a walk and happen to be talking about you, then speak of the devil here you are with Gringore."

"Nice to see you again lady Gabriella." Gringore bowed. She curtsied. "And Marquel, my good sir, you look nobler then ever. Must be the lady at your side." Marquel and Gabriella blushed.

"I would like to agree." Marquel was a tall slim handsome boy with dark straight hair and a long face. Both Gabriella and him were from fishing families and were Celeste's only other friends since the day her family moved to Paris from Italy when she was eleven. Seven years later she still missed it.

The mumbles of people and sounds of carts and market business was joined by the sound of the afternoon bells. It was now noon. Celeste gasped and turned to her friends. "Mama and Papa expect me home soon, and I haven't even picked up one thing from the market."

"Some wife you'll make," Gringore mumbled. Celeste hit him with her empty basket.

"You're lucky we are in the public market Pierre Gringore. I hear poets are rather dainty fighters. I could beat you within the ring of bell from Notre Dame."

"I conquer. I am a lover, not a fighter. And I do thank my lucky stars that you cared to spare me this afternoon."

"Celeste," Marquel said. She turned to him, still holding Gabriella's hands. "Wasn't there something you were about to do?" It only took a second for her to remember.

"Jesus Mary and Joseph!"

"Celeste!" Gabriella exclaimed.

"I was praying! Gotta run know. Take care friends. Thanks Marquel. Au revoir!" They waved her good bye as she began her rushed shopping trip.

Several factors made Celeste very unique. The most obvious was her foreign looks. She shared her mother's Italian genes. She had darker skin and her French was still not as good as a native to Pairs, like her father. Astor Orvelle was a member of the royal guard and had been sent to Tuscany where he met and married his wife, Rosabell. When Celeste was eleven he was called back to Paris and she had to leave her beloved home. It still had not fully grown on her, but she knew she was a big enough disappointment to her family already and tried to adapt as best she could.

It was also true she rather dress in pants and loose tunics like men. She found them more comfortable. Her parents claimed to understand her, but they never really did. They wanted her to be a proper lady and marry a fine man and take care of him. But home was not where she wished to spend her days. She found herself to be a city girl. She did miss the hills of Tuscany, but the streets of Paris, although so much different, were just as exciting.

They last major part that made Celeste one of a kind was her love for the arts. She loved to read plays and poetry and watch performances. She only wished she had the talent as well. It was this small passion that lead to her friendship with Pierre Gringore who taught her all the art she had been deprived off. Her parents took at as just and interest to entertain her and suggested she marry a duke or price so he may take her to shows, but they didn't know of her deep passion.

Celeste was indeed a rare beauty and her parents would wonder why she didn't yet have a husband. But she was only 18 and still had time. If she would bother to dress nicer and brush her hair instead of tie it loosely back allowing some to hang in her face she could be very beautiful. But no one would ever know if it were true. Her strange hobbies, foreign looks, and her lack of interest in a normal girl's life seemed to drive people away, labeling her as an outcast.

In record time she gathered all supplies she needed from the market and would make it home when expected. Celeste heaved a sigh of relief after checking too make sure she had gotten all she needed and started walking home. Her bohemian eyes caught the sound of minstrels playing. On the side of the street a gypsy band with a flute, drum, and tambourine was playing, and naturally everyone was avoiding them. Celeste loved music and was very caring, but not clueless. She knew from experience gypsies could not be trusted. Her parents also never neglected to remined her. But she felt more respect for them when they earned their money. She searched her apron and found some extra pennies and tossed them in a hat in front of the gypsy band. They smiled and nodded at her. She returned a smile and walked away.

Even if Celeste was unhappy, she could not be ungrateful for her home. It was what her parents referred to as 'upper middle class.' It had two stories and was more then big enough for her small family. Her father made more then a decent living being a respected member of the guard. Back in Tuscany her mother was a candle maker and still made a side living with it there.

She opened the door and entered her home to she her mother in the kitchen. She was beautiful and as foreign looking as Celeste but she seemed to fit in better. Her dark brown hair like Celeste▓s was pulled back in a low tight bun and she was dressed in her dark house dress and apron ready to make dinner. Celeste was as tall as her. Next to her mother stood a small girl with her father's wavy black hair and an innocent mien. She was standing on the top of her toes to reach the counter to help her mother.

"Ah, there you are Celeste," her mother said. "I was concerned your 7 year old sister would be of more help then you."

"Celeste!" the high pitched voiced girl sang. She ran up to her older sister.

"Afternoon Ninette. How was your morning?"

"I helped Mama. Like you do Celeste." There was nothing else in all the world that Celeste adored more then her younger sister. And she knew Ninette thought the same of her.

"I am certain you were more useful then I am." Her mother made no comment.

Celeste placed the basket from the market on the counter. "Here is everything you wanted Mama."

"Merci darling. Will you assist me so dinner may to ready for your father's return home? Your sister has done her fair share."

"Oui Mama."

"I want to help my sister." Ninette said.

"You can keep me company." Celeste suggested and the little girl smirked.

Astor came home on time as usual and dinner was prepared. Half way through was an uncomfortable but sadly familiar silence. The two siblings sat across from each other and the parents sat across from each other. The head of the family finally spoke. "Antoine tells me he saw you talking to that Gringore again." he said without even looking at Celeste but clearing talking to her. He was a noble man. Astor was strong looking with an aging face, large nose and a black mustache. Without showing any expression his tone was always understood, a typical father.

Her mother's utensils clattered on the plate. "Not that strange poet." This was nothing new to Celeste. They never would approve of his company and she had given up trying to convince them otherwise. "I am telling you Celeste, nothing good will come from being in the company of that... gypsy!"

"He is far from a gypsy Mama. He has morals and is well educated. Just another struggling artist."

"Just as well, he is as bad as a gypsy."

"I understand Mama." She did not feel like arguing tonight.

"Speaking of gypsies," her father wiped his mouth with his cloth showing he was finished with his super. "Tomorrow is that bloody Festival of Fools. My regiment and I must supervise. Who knows what those gypsies can do when they are let loose. If they aren't bad enough alone and in hiding, they are worse when there are many legally allowed to freely perform such foolery."

"Let the poor souls have their fun dear. Its about all they have." Her mother began to stand and take plates meaning Celeste had to do the same. Astor began to stand as well.

"Rosabell darling, you look tired. I will help Celeste. Go help Ninette prepare for bed."

"Thank you darling." They gave each other a quick kiss and the two went up the stairs.

Celeste and her father cleared the table and began washing the plates. She had been working up the courage all day to ask him something, and now seemed like the perfect time. "Papa, you are going to the festival tomorrow right?" He glanced at her with curiosity for a moment but quickly returned to drying down dishes with a cloth.

"I am dear."

"Well, I wish to go with you." He smiled with disbelief.

"What an absurd request Celeste. You most certainly may not go. Its a festival for scoundrels. A future lady such as yourself should not be around such filth."

"But Papa, if I stay with you I'll be fine. I just want to see the shows. I know they are gypsies, but you and Mama admitted the have the most talent. Please Papa, please." He turned to her sternly and waged his finger at her with a rag in his hand.

"Absolutely not. I am starting to get very concerned about your interests. I wonder if I should blame that damned poet. It was fine when it was just an interest, but you are starting to give this family a bad name. You are setting a bad example for Ninette. There is only so much I will allow. I am very lenient, but you have pushed me to my limit. No is my answer, and I do not want to any more about it." He reached to put plates away in a cabinet. Celeste lowered her head in shame and defeat. "Yes Papa." The night ended without it being mentioned again. 


	2. Feast of Fools

The sounds of the festival being set up woke her. Celeste sat at her bedroom window. A building was blocking the festival that was two streets away, but she could hear the music and see balloons and people dancing through the streets. It may have been a festival for scoundrels, but it looked like all of Paris would be attending. She could only sit there and wonder what events where taking place. She couldn't even figure out why she wanted to go so bad, but she did. And she felt not even her father could stop her. She had been wanting to go more and more with each passing year, and she could no longer take it.

She pulled her secret trunk out from under her bed where she kept her father's old cloths that she liked to dress in. She put on her favorite grey hose and dark blue tunic and black belt. Her hair was pulled back in her usual black clip which still allowed stands of uneven hair to fall to the sides of her face. Finally she slipped her feet into her brown boots and threw on her warm black cloak to keep her warm and disguise herself. Lastly she took out a black hat with a white feather. She hide it under her cloak and looked in the mirror. These cloths suited her better.

She then realized what she was doing. She would be going against her father's wishes and sneaking out of the house to go to the Festival of Fools which would be crawling with scheming gypsies and drunks. But the music and shows and art seemed far too tempting. But if she were to get caught... her father was indeed at the festival and would be getting a good look at everyone. Celeste knew it was a big risk, but something told her it would be worth it. Before leaving she stashed a small amount of money in her pocket just in case. Hopefully it was not truly a feast of thieves like her father said. With a deep breath she trotted down the stairs making sure her cloak covered her.

Her mother was dipping candle wicks in wax and Ninette was playing with a doll on the floor. It seemed at soon as she came down the stairs she was opening the front door. "I am going to meet Marquel and Gabriella Mama. I'll be home after noon." She hoped her father had not mentioned her request the previous night. Otherwise her mother would surly suspect her of sneaking to the festival. She practically held her breath.

"They are a nice pair. Just be home to help with super dear." Her mother didn't even look up. Celeste let out a mental sigh of relief.

"Au revior Ninette."

"Au revior sis." she waved and Celeste was out the door.

The weather was perfect for a festival. Celeste slipped on her hat. No one would recognize her. She fallowed the horde of people toward the city square. Celeste never felt such excitement and a serge of cleverness being able to fool her mother. She almost wanted to dance to the square. It was just too bad she knew she couldn't dance. But she felt nothing could bring down her mood. She stared up at the sky to smile at the sun. In the distance were some dark clouds. She prayed they would not come during the festival.

When she arrived at the city square, her lips curved into an automatic smile. Never had she seen so much excitement in one place. Ribbons, streamers, and flags were bright above her head. Wagons with artists and music stood in varies places around the square. People were dressed in costumes and dancing and singing. The whole city seemed to be there eating and drinking and enjoying themselves. The idea that the festival was were gypsies stole and deceived seemed unbelievable. It seemed everyone was only there for the fun of the festival. All worries about her lies seemed to leave her. Celeste too was there to enjoy the festival.

"Behold, I am Jupiter..." A play was being recited near by. Celeste was filled with excitement. She herself felt as if she were acting, trying not to be seen for who she truly was. Staying in character she walked over to the crowd. Near the side mouthing all of the lines was Gringore. Of course it was his play. He had been going on about it for weeks. One of his plays were to be performed at the festival. This was probably what Celeste wanted to see most.

She walked up behind him. He didn't even notice her, he was so absorbed in his play. She looked at the crowd. He was about the only one. No one else was showing much interest, as usual. "Opening show?" Celeste surprised him with a whisper. He jumped being forced out of his trance and glanced at her. It took him a moment to realize who it was.

"Celeste? I can't believe you are here! I am surprised your parents allowed it, and let you out dressed as a man."

"I am afraid they have not allowed either. I am out by my own will, and in disguise. My father is a patrolling officer at the festival today, and I pray he nor any of his comrades will recognize me."

"I hardly did myself. I am certain he will not either." This made Celeste smile and feel more confidant. It was also nice to see a friendly face. To spend a day at the festival with a friend; Celeste could not think of anything better.

The play had not gotten much farther when people began to boo and hiss yelling insults. I was sad that no one had any respect for the arts. Gringore went on stage himself to try and calm them. "Please, please ladies and gentlemen. I offer you truth!"

"We don't want your truth!" someone spat back. Cabbage began flying in the air at him. The actors jumped off stage. Gringore however, fell off. As horrible as the sight was, Celeste couldn't help but laugh at her friend who was climbing out of a pile of hay. She came over to help him.

"Stupid idiot drunkard-" he mumbled.

"Calm yourself Gringore. Pay no attention to them. Enjoy the festival."

"How can I enjoy anything when the work that I have toiled over all year has been spat at?"

"Their opinion means nothing, for they know nothing of art. I thought it was a wonderful play." She still held his arm. He smiled.

"And that is all that matters," he placed his hand on hers. "And here I am cradling another man." They separated. "May today I be crowned King of Fools." Celeste's face lit up.

"I had forgotten! I hear it is a highlight. When does that start?"

"Noon I believe. After the parade comes through and the main stage show."

"A parade and stage show? I can hardly wait."

Louder music began to play from the center of the square. People began to gather closer as a group of gypsies in costume lined up and began singing. "Come one, come all! Leave your loops and milking stools. Coop the hens and pen the mules." She glanced at Gringore.

"It looks like you will not have to wait." She smiled and they both ran to the center of the square. They were lucky to find a spot where they could see. The singing continued as the rest of the performers came together. "Close the churches and the schools. It's the day for breaking rules. Come and join the feast of ..."

"FOOLS!" Out of the crowd jump a colorfully dressed man in purple, blue and yellow with a matching mask and large feathered hat and bells began singing and laughing. Confetti and streamers erupted with more music as the man began singing the song for the Festival of Fools. "Once a year we throw a party here in town. Once a year we turn all Paris upside down. Ev'ry man's a king and ev'ry king's a clown. Once again it's Topsy Turvy Day. It's the day the devil in us gets released. It's the day we mock the prig and shock the priest. Ev'rything is topsy turvy at the Feast of Fools!"

The parade continued through. There was still singing and dancing. Everywhere music roared and gypsies, jugglers, musicians, acrobats, dancers, performers, troubadours, and minstrels danced through the square with the crowd. Everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time. Even Celeste and Gringore found themselves dancing. A large colorfully dressed gypsy lady tried to charm poor Gringore who had a hard time getting away. Celeste had never laughed and smiled so much. Nothing about the festival seemed wicked as her father has suggested. She had never had so much fun.

But it all seemed too good to be true. A large grey carriage pulled up to the stand were respected officials who can to spectator sat. Riding on a horse to the right was her father who was making sure the passenger got out safely. It was Judge Claude Frollo, a grim looking old man who had a skinny face to match his scrawny figure. Her father always spoke highly of him, but he gave of a aura of wrath and wickedness to Celeste. But now was no time to judge. Celeste had to get out of eye sight from her father or any of the other guards that might recognize her.

She turned to Gringore. He was still trying to slip away from the gypsy who really seemed to like him. Celeste didn't have time to help him or say good bye, and there was no way he could help her now. She would just have to hide under her hat and run for it. She swam through the crowd. She didn't want to leave the festival, just get far from her father. Behind the stand that was facing the main stage was the bridge over the river that lead to Notre Dame. She figured if she could get across there she would be out of sight from the stand and still be able to watch the festival from afar. It wasn't how she wanted to spend her day at the celebration, but it was better then nothing. With her goal in mind, she set out for the bridge staying covered and hidden in the loud crowd.

Most of the time she looked down so her hat would cover her face and she could avoid eye contact with any of the guards. But it was hard to see where she was going. She bumped into many people but most didn't seem to notice since it was so crowded, no one could move. She then heard the clops of a horse's foot steps. A guard was near. Had he recognized her? Was it her father? Celeste wished not to find out. She quickened her pace. The bridge was so close. It was like getting near freedom. She still looked down and could not see very well. Hearing the horse snort made her panic. She took larger faster steps which was like running blind. But the bridge was right in front of her. Once she crossed it, she should be safe if the guard had not followed her.

Getting distracted by thought and still not looking up, Celeste bumped into another person. This time the collision was so hard she fell to the ground. "I am terribly sorry sir," the one she bumped apologized. A breeze touched her scalp. Her hat had fallen off. Her disguise was gone and her identity revealed with her hair. She then looked up in shock. Looking down at her was the person she had knocked into with a puzzled look. It was the main singer in purple and in a mask and hat that had jumped out of the crowd at the beginning of the parade.

He seemed much taller close up, plus the fact she was sitting on the ground. He was a fit young man with a mischievous oval face, a Frenchman▓s nose and black short beard on his chin that was well groomed. He looked very festive. But Celeste felt panicked seeing his judgmental face. It seemed like time had stopped, but actually it had barley been a second when the man began laughing again. "Why, it is not a sir I should be apologizing too, but a lady." Celeste felt sure that now, even a gypsy would outcast her. "What a fine costume for Topsy Turvy day. Best by far! Glad to see someone in the spirit of things. What a fine idea. I think next year I shall come in a bonnet and skirt. Well then, enjoy the festival! Happy Fools Day!" The handsome gypsy then danced with his bells jingling with his movements and continuing to sing and laugh.

Celeste was awe struck for a moment. She could not understand what had just happened. She had been in such a panic, and now, she was being praised for her attire. It all seemed so out of place. She then remembered she had been running from a guard. Quickly glancing behind her she saw no one there. Relief flooded through her. Before her outfit gained any more attention she replaced her had and got up from the ground. Seeing people head for the main stage reminded her of the show. She found a spot to stand on the other side of the bridge that still gave her a grand view of the main stage. Behind the great Notre Dame the angry cloud she had spotted earlier seemed closer. 'Please spare the festival, just today.' she mentally prayed.

As soon as she was situated, the purple gypsy she had bumped into, who seemed to be the master of ceremonies, was on the main stage. His voice reached all the way to the other side of the river. Celeste was amazed at his talent, and how he got to the stage so fast. But she was certain he was her favorite performer. "Hurry hurry, here's your chance, see the mystery and romance. Come one, come all! See the finest girl in France, make an entrance to entrance. Dance La Esmeralda! Dance!"

He disappeared behind a puff of smoke and a beautiful gypsy girl took his place. She was dressed in red with thick raven black hair. The most beautiful gypsy Celeste had ever seen. Her dancing was just as magnificent. Celeste sighed with envy. What she would give to have such talent. But her parents made it clear that low life was for gypsies. Celeste would have to live her life in a house tending to the needs of a husband. Anything, even a gypsy's life sounded more appealing.

The gypsy dancer La Esmeralda finished her performance with a breath taking twirl around a guard▓s spear she had stuck in the stage. It was not surprising her dance was the main stage show. She bowed and Celeste applauded vigorously as the rest of the crowd cheers and tossed coins on the stage. Once again the master of ceremonies appeared on stage along side Esmeralda. "And now the feast de resistance! Here it is the moment you've been waiting for. The crowning of the King of Fools!" He began to sing again. "So make a face the horrible and frightening. Make a face a gruesome as a gargoyle▓s wing. For the face that's ugliest will be the King of Fools!"

Performers in masks were then being pulled up on stage and lined up. Then one by one, the gypsy dancer pulled their masks off. The crowd booed if the face was not ugly enough and they were thrown off stage. There was some strange faces, but none seemed to please the crowd. Esmeralda came to the last one. A short man who was hunched over which a mask of a deformed face with a large nose and a wart for one eye. She reached for the mask and yanked as hard as she could, but the deformed face remained. People began to gasp. "It's not a mask." "Its his face!" Various people shrieked. "Its Quasimodo, the bell ringer of Notre Dame."

It truly was. The hunchback who was shunned from society and forced to hide in the sanctuary of the cathedral ringing the bells. Celeste was never entirely sure if he really existed. Of course someone rang the enchanting bells, but no one had seen him before, Quasimodo very well may have been a fairy tale creature. But the poor embarrassed creature on stage was surly not made up. Instead of being appauld, Celeste felt blessed, as if a fantasy creature's existence had been proven, like an angel appearing. Something mysterious that had never been seen but she had always known was there and made heavenly music.

As bad as the situation seemed, someone yelled from the crowd, "Make him the King of Fools!" The crowd's opinion seemed to change and they all agreed. "Yes, the ugliest face in Paris!" People began to cheer. The gypsy in purple took out the crown and placed it on Quasimodo's head who looked very surprised. "All hail the King of Fools! Quasimodo the hunchback of Notre Dame!" He yelled. Everyone along with Celeste cheered and yelled to the king. He was lifted onto a throne that the citizens carried around the square singing and dancing for his highness. He was brought to the stand in center of the city square near the pillar where people continued to chant his name. Even Celeste was smiling with him.

Again all seemed too good to be true. Out of now where, a guard threw a tomatoes at him that hit the king right in the face. People began to gasp again. Another guard did the same. Soon many in the crowd began to mock the ugly royalty. Quasimodo looked terrified. Celeste's jaw dropped. A member of the royal guard, the honorable group her father was a part of, how could they do such a thing? She felt ashamed for her father. Nothing would please her more then to stop the madness. No, her father would stop it. The justful Frollo would. She waited, but her father and the other guards did not move. "Why are they not moving?" she whispered to herself. Her eyes were locked on her father and the back of his horse. Not so much as a shrug. "Come now Papa, do something. By the grace of God, help him." Nothing.

Celeste was tempted to take it upon herself to act. But a few things were stopping her. Staring at the poor soul who was now being tied and spun on the pillar with garbage being tossed at him, it scared her. To stand in front of all those people, for the deformed devil. He was still just an innocent outcast much like herself, but he frightened her, and she was ashamed to admit it. She did not need to be outcaste anymore then she already was. That, and her father would surly see her if she was up on the pillar. Fear struck her down, and she was certain there was nothing she could do.

The angry laughing crowd was silenced. Celeste held her breath. Esmeralda, the gypsy dancer, now out of her crimson dress and in a purple and white street dress, had stepped up to the pillar with a face of pity. It wasn't until then Celeste noticed how far she really was. She might have fallen into the river if she leaned over the edge of the stone wall. She couldn't hear what she was saying to the poor devil as she wiped away the garbage on his face. But Frollo could be heard from miles. "Gypsy girl! Get down at once!"

"Yes sir. Just as soon as I free this poor creature."

"You will not!"

"You treat this poor man the same way you treat my people!" She spoke boldly. Celeste was taken aback. "You speak of justice but you treat people so cruelly!"

"Silence!"

"Justice!" She then drew out a knife, and cut the ropes binding the hunchback.

The crowd began to whisper and gossip as the latest excitement. And the excitement was only beginning. Frollo snapped to his guards, "Captain," he addressed man next to him and near her father in armor, "Arrest her." The Captain of the guard snapped at his guards, one being her father. They all surrounded the stage. Celeste found herself frozen looking at her father. She always admired his nobility, but was this right? A kind hearted citizen just trying to keep the peace and help the less fortunate? Was that a crime? Celeste still couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something she could do, but nothing seemed to come to mind, nor did the courage.

When the guards had her surrounded the gypsy took out a cloth, then suddenly, she disappeared with the same trick the mastering gypsy had used. "Witchcraft!" People yelled in fear. It was enough to pause Celeste mulling guilt. "Oh boys!" A taunting voice yelled. Esmeralda was now on the other side of the square. Guards ran after her, but she started running through the crowd. "After her!" Guards spread out through the square. This wasn't good for Celeste. The chances of her being seen were very possible with this turn of events. Regretfully she could no longer stay at the festival and see how things would turn out. The festival had taken a turn for the worst anyhow. It was best she did leave.

Shielding herself under her hat, she ran back across the bridge and around the crowd and back through the streets toward home. It was much more difficult than she anticipated. Every step she took someone jumped in front of her. With frustration she began pushing them aside to get out. The crowd was making responsive noises to the chase for Esmeralda. Celeste was tempted to look back and continue to watch, but it was too risky.

But that concern came too soon. A guard suddenly ran in front of her. She was able to halt before knocking into him. But he noticed and turned to her. He looked directly at her. It was Antoine, one of the guards in Astor's regiment. They had made eye contact for not even a second, but it was enough to send a panic down Celeste's spin. But she bowed her head under her head and ran around him. All she could think to do was run, pushing everyone out of her way. Had he recognized her? Maybe not, but running away like that surly made him suspicious. Celeste was sure of it, she had been caught. What at started as the most joyous day of her life, took a turn for the worst.

The sky darkened, Celeste slowed down, looking up she was at a clear street. Everyone was still at the square and she was alone. It began to rain, the cloud came to finish her off. Celeste never felt such sorrow. She never should have gone to the festival. It was hardly worth it. Before people scattered back into the streets rushing home from the rain, she dragged herself back to her house.

Upon arriving at the door she removed her hat and hide it under her cloak again. She opened the door and rushed up the stairs to her room to change. "Celeste?" her mother caught a glimpse at her.

"I am soaked Mama. Getting into dry linins." She yelled from the top of the stairs.

"Oh, I just put fresh towels up there. Do use them, for all our sake. Don't catch a cold, you may give us all the plague."

"Yes Mama." And so ended that.

Getting dry was far from her mind. Even wet, her cloths were the most comforting. Soon her father would come home and she would be scolded. But that was only one half of her worries. Her lack of courage at the festival was eating her alive. She felt more helpless then the hunchback. Bless the creature's heart, whatever happened to him? And the gypsy Esmeralda? At first Celeste envied her dancing skills, but now she envied her bravery. Before changing, Celeste checked her pockets. Ever penny she had brought to the festival was still there. Gypsy thieves would have been the best part of her horrid day.

Celeste dried and dressed, then awaited her doom when her father returned. When he did he was dripping wet. She did not come down from her room to greet him, but he over heard him recalling the festival's event. Ninette jumped up and down with excitement while her mother listening with shock. He in turned dried himself and changed in time for super. Celeste was setting the table when he came down the stairs. It was the first time since the festival she saw him. But he did not glare or scold at her. In fact, he acted normally. Celeste was filled with a sudden hope. Maybe he still did not know.

Super was normal as well. Her father told the stories of the chase again. Esmeralda was now in Notre Dame claiming the right of sanctuary, so no guard could touch her now. Celeste was glad. However, Frollo had placed a guard at every door. The church had become a prison, and for that she felt sorry. As for the bell ringer, he made it back to the cathedral just fine and for that Celeste silently rejoiced as well. They could all agree it was an eventful festival.

After Celeste was told her lies of what she did with Marquel and Gabriella super was finished. She began picking up the plates along with her mother when her father spoke,

"Ninette, be a young lady and go prepare yourself for bed. Your mother and I wish to talk to your sister."

"Oui Papa," she smiled, and dashed up the stairs. Celeste tried to remain calm. Her knew, but he spoke with no emotion as usual.

"Celeste, a fishing family is wise with the weather. Surly they could see the storm coming. And am doubtful they would let their children out of the house with a storm like this." Her mother listened intently, while Celeste was still and silent. "You went to the festival." It was not a question, it was a fact.

"She what?" her mother spun around.

"Antoine saw her, hiding under my old feathered hat."

"I thought you sad a mutt tore that hat up. I gave it to you for your birthday."

"That is beside the point my dear Rosabell. Our eldest daughter has deceived us. And lying is an intolerable sin."

"Celeste, what has come over you?" Celeste was speechless. But it was better to listen to them and have it their way then get in any more trouble.

"I am sorry. Truly I am. I should have listened. I never should have gone. I gave into temptation. I pray for your forgiveness."

"That you will," her father stood up and dropped his napkin to the table. "After Sunday Mass this week you will go to confession and say the rosary at home. Until then you will not be leaving this house for anything. This is your punishment. Understand?"

"Oui Papa,"

"Good, help you mother with the dishes. Tomorrow and until Sunday she will put you to work." She nodded and her father went upstairs for bed. Celeste turned to her mother and helped in silence. Her head would not sink any lower. The shame was just too much. All the trouble and punishment was not worth the risk after all.

Before falling asleep, Celeste lay awake in her bed, thinking of all that had happened at the festival. It seemed like far too much to even comprehend. She just wished to remember one good thing. Any good thing. She flashed back to laughing and dancing with Gringore before having to run. To add to her guilt, she had abandoned her dear friend. It seemed nothing good happened. Before given up and retreating to her misery, Celeste remembered something, or someone rather. The gypsy she bumped into when her hat fell off who did not scorn her for dressing strangely. He seemed like the one person all day who smiled at her. For that, she couldn▓t believe, she was grateful to a gypsy. 


	3. Unwanted Truth

The week went by so slowly for Celeste. Although every hour of the day was spent helping her mother or being with her sister, Celeste never felt so lonely. Her mother kept her very busy. Her father called if her wife training. The thought of staying cooped up in a home all day doing the same pointless things day in and day out sickened her. But she knew not to disobey her father, anymore than she already had.

The idea of this wife training frightened Celeste. In her lonely days of toil she began thinking about it more and more. It was a fate she despised but had accepted. Celeste had not entirely mastered being a proper lady, but she had perfected the taking orders part. However, the last thing she wanted was to disappoint her father. As unfair as it all seemed it was the way of modern society. But the idea of marriage haunted her. Like any young girl, she dreamed of being whisked away by a handsome romantic and living happily ever after like a fairy tale. But obedient house wife did not sound like a happy ending for her.

Gringore had always spoken of change. How Celeste longed for it. That only reminded her of how she abandoned her friend what felt like ages ago at the Festival of Fools. She had wished to seek him out and ask forgiveness, but she was forbidden to leave the house until her punishment was through. After this she was certain she would never defy her father again.

News had reached her threw her father one night at dinner that La Esmeralda had escaped Notre Dame. Celeste found it hard not to smile. She was so proud the clever gypsy was able to give them the slip again. Now there was a desperate search for her and her arrest was crucial. The chase kept her father and his regiment very busy. This was fine by Celeste because it only meant she could see less of the disappointment and sharpened strictness in his eyes.

The end of mass that Sunday marked freedom for Celeste. Once she left the big cathedral doors her debt will have been paid. After they sang the last hymn her father escorted her to confession. There was so much more she felt guilty for other then disobeying her father, such as not helping the tortured hunchback and never sending word to Gringore. But all she confessed was only what her father knew of her sneaking to the festival and dressing improperly. The priest forgave her as well as God, and she exited the church with her family.

Her parents were talking with another couple and talking about the latest society gossip as Celeste and Ninette held hands standing further away. Celeste smelled the morning air. It smelled like freedom. Celeste would be able to leave the house freely for the first time in days. It was the first surge of joy she had had in a while.

In the square across from the church was a single gypsy cart. A curtain had opened in front of the window and children from the mass had gathered around. From the small stage, puppets arose and performed for the children. Ninette tugged on Celeste's sleeve. "A puppet show! Look Celeste! May I go watch?"

"Ask Mama and Papa." Hearing themselves being mentioned the chanting couple turned to their children.

"Mama, Papa, may I go watch the puppet show?" They glanced where their youngest was pointed. Seeing the common cart and all the peasant children they tried to hide their disgusted faces. They then looked at Celeste.

"Celeste will take you darling. We will be going home for a terse meal and conversation with the Roulettes. Understood?" Their father instructed.

"Celeste, you will take me?" Ninette smiled.

"Of course Ninette. Anything you want." Celeste couldn't help but smile at the little girl. She adored her. Ninette let out another squeal of satisfaction before parting with their parents and heading over to the puppet show.

When they joined the audience. The show had just barely started. A prince was searching the land for his princess and had to face many dangers. Children responded to every situation and cheered the prince on until he puppet prince finally found his puppet princess and they lived happily ever after. The children clapped and cheered at the end, even Celeste. It was quite an entertaining experience, or at least the most she has seen in days.

The puppeteer stood up to take a bow with his "actors." Celeste recognized him. It was the gypsy who hosted the Festival of Fools. She was amazed she even remember him it seemed like such a long and depressing time ago. But he looked and was dressed exactly the same. She was even more amazed by this addition to his performing talents.

The crowd began to disperse. The puppeteer had exited the cart to begin packing up. Ninette had walked to the front to get a better look at the puppets. Celeste approached her, "Come now Ninette. We should get going." Hearing a voice, the puppeteer looked up. Smiling and laughing he spoke, "Well if it isn't the cross-dressing festival goer. I must say, as different as this attire is, it suits you all the same." Celeste was surprised he recognized her, and was just as shocked the he would talk to her. Strangely at the same time she was honored. In her mind this handsome man was much like a celebrity. The fact he acknowledged a common festival goer such as herself flattered her. His performance was something she very much admired.

"You remember?" was all she could think of saying.

"It was my favorite costume I must say." he shrugged and at the same time was closing up his wagon.

"Thank you kind gypsy. And I shall admit in turn, you were my favorite performer. Even a simply puppet show deserved vigorous applause."

"You are too kind mademoiselle. Merci," he bowed and removed his hat reveling all of his smooth glossy black hair. Celeste was amazed at how equal she was to a gypsy. Her parents always talked about how much lower they were. But he seemed just as mannered as duke. But the warnings all seemed to come rushing back to her. He was still a gypsy and was to be untrusted, talented or not. She knew she had to leave remembering she still had her beloved innocent younger sister there.

"Well we thank you for your entertainment. Good day monsieur, au reviour."

"Anytime time madam. A good day to the both of you." Celeste smiled at him then took Ninette by the hand and then began the walk home feeling very proud of the handsome gypsy's compliments. It was if she was being praised by someone of higher class or talent, like an idol.

"You know the nice puppet man sis?" Ninette asked with glistening eyes as if in disbelief. Celeste had expected this after the way he had addressed her after the show with her sister standing right there.

"Merely acquaintances Ninette. We have only met once, and it was quite the informal meeting."

"I like him," she smirked, "He's nice." A look of concern and curiosity filled Ninette's face as she looked to her sister again. "Is he a gypsy?" Celeste looked down at her, "Yes, he is."

"Are gypsies really bad Celeste?" Celeste felt unsure how to answer. But she did not want to confuse or mislead her younger sister. She felt she should continue as her parents had taught them. "It is true." Ninette reached into her pocket with her hand that wasn't still grasping her sisters. "The franc Papa gave me is still there. Mama and Papa say all gypsies do is steal. It is really true Celeste?" She went on with her curious child-like questions. Celeste would often get annoyed by this, but she found herself wondering the same thing.

"I honestly can say I am not entirely sure dear. But it is best to listen to Mama and Papa." Celeste had learned this lesson the hard way and found it best Ninette knew the same. Her little sister smiled again. "Maybe he is a good gypsy." This statement made but such a young child made her wonder for a moment.

But it was then Gringore ran up to Celeste. Even though it had been less then a week, it felt like years. Still, he looked the same, and very excited and surprised to see Celeste.

"Celeste Orvelle!" He shouted.

"Gringore!" He embraced her tightly and suddenly. She couldn't even return the gesture he held her so tightly.

"Long have a pondered your whereabouts! Where have you been hiding? I have afraid you had eloped with some handsome gypsy. Their life would suit you well; I was afraid you gave into temptation and left me."

"Far from in Gringore. I was locked away from the outside world since the Festival. My father discovered my treachery and had be repent for numerous days. But I am free now, yet still under his strict power. I will never defy him again."

"My poor Celeste, what has come over you?"

"Only the truth, something you speak of often."

"This is not my truth."

"No, but the truth of my noble father, for which my sister and I must obey. We were just out for a while and now we must be getting back before my father in turn suspects me be taken and wooed by beggars."

"Very well then. Au revior my dear friend. And to you too young Ninette. I am just glad to see you are still alive and well." They waved good bye and continued home. Celeste would agree she was alive, but not well. 


	4. Obedience

**Bonjour readers! I hope you are liking the story. I haven't been saying much myself because I thought no one would read this. But some people are so I figured what the hell? Plus having an author's note kind of builds the relationship between the story and writer. My reviewers have been giving me excellent critiques and I have been trying to improve and update as much as possible for those who actual read this. I thank you all. This chapter is short because I felt suspense was needed at the end for dramatic effect.**

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When the two sisters arrived home the company was still there. Their parents invited them to entertain the guests with them a little longer until they had to depart. Celeste was heading up the stairs to entertain herself, possibly with a good book, until she was summoned to help prepare supper. On her way up the stairs however, her father abruptly stopped her. She turned to him on the stairs upon hearing him call her name. "Your trunk with your men's wear, bring it to me now would you? I wish to dispose it."

"What? But Papa, I promised I would not wear them out again. I swore to you, I would not defy you-" he cut off her defense.

"Then don't defy me now." This silenced her. "We have kept this a secret among our family up till now, and I don't intend to do it any longer if you insist on dressing like that in public. No respected lady would be seen in such attire. Your family's reputation would be on the line along with your life. Now, bring it to me."

Celeste tried to hide her frustration and anger. She knew he was right. He was a respected member of the guard and his appearance to the public eye should not be stained by his daughter. If she was ever to be caught by anyone else, she would most likely be suspected of demon possession and burnt at a stake or hung from the gallows. Sadly it may have been for the best. She agreed and headed up the stairs.

She removed the trunk from under her cot. She had convinced herself it was for the best on the stairs but now she was full of regret and despair. It went far beyond the disposal of her treasured cloths, but deep into family values and inner emotions. All these feeling were in one trunk, a grim symbol. She was tempted to hide on of the outfits and keep it a secret, but she had vowed to be an obedient daughter.

Closer to dinner, after her father had thrown out the cloths Celeste was told to light the lamp outside the door. Celeste entered the cold air and quickly lit the lamp with a match. Before going back in, something caught her eye. Behind the barrel in front of her home was a bundle. She picked it up. It was a pair of black hose, a white large men's kirtle, a smaller grey vest with a tie string near the neck, and blue hat with a black feather. With the pile of men's apparel was piece of parchment.

_"My dear friend Celeste, _

_I was heading down your street when I caught a glimpse of your father disposing your favorite wardrobe. I do not know if you agreed to this, but I collected my only other garments, feeling they are more needed by you then I. I hope the suit you well. _

_Your poet friend, Pierre Gringore."_

Celeste never felt such a surge of glee. How kind of her friend! She could not wait to thank him. She understood this would be going against her vow, but she swore never to wear it in public, and no harm would come to owning it. She stashed it under her apron and cautiously opened the door. Only her mother was in the kitchen and her other two family members were upstairs. She dashed up each step and into her room where she hide the cloths under her mattress along with the kind note. Celeste was feeling slightly better now.

After they had eaten and the dishes had been cleaned all were ready for bed. Celeste had gotten into her night wear and went to wish her family a good night. Exiting into the hallway she heard whispering down the stairs. It was all three members of her family talking. Hearing her named mentioned in the discussion, she hide at the stop of the stairs.  
"But I love Celeste. She is a greatest elder sibling I have ever had!" Ninette said.

"Yes, she is wonderful to you darling, but you must understand," her mother tried to calm her.

"While your sister may be a proper sibling to you, she fails to fallow the rules of society. We are working to correct this. You love your sister, and that is why we are telling you not to do the wrong she does." her father explained. Celeste felt as if your insides had shattered.

"Celeste has done wrong?" Ninette questioned.

"She had done her penance for it. And I believe she will be a proper lady from now on. But we felt we should talk to you and warn you of your sister's deeds. She is setting an example of what not to do. Currently, you are the young lady of the house, we only hope your sister will learn to be the same way." he finished.

Celeste couldn't take it anymore. She ran back in her room and closed the door not caring if they noticed her.

Everything was going wrong. She had failed her father, and now he was putting a bad image of her into her precious sister's mind. What would Ninette think of her now? Her sister was one of her only joys in Paris, and she felt as though she was taken away, like her secret wardrobe. How could her father do this to her? Could her sin really be that evil that he would continue to indirectly punish her?

Wishing not to think about it anymore, Celeste wept into her pillow silently, hoping sleep would relieve her of her grief. Time passed and all were asleep except for her. She wanted to get out of her house. She couldn't stand being there knowing the man who was her own family sought to destroy her. Drying her tears and muting her sobs, she leapt out of the sheets and grabbed the outfit from Gringore. It fit perfectly. She found it far better then any other garment she previously owned.

Quietly she stuck down the stairs and out of the house. She knew she was breaking her vow to her father, but she was far to upset with him to feel guilty. She just wanted to get away and be alone in the empty streets of Paris.


	5. The Uncrowned King

**Yay, this one is longer. Compared to that Feast of Fools chapter though, all these literally fall short. But I am sure my very few readers will like this one. Um, reviews would be nice, s'il vous plaît... which reminds me, overload of simple french in this chapter. Its easy to figure out, mostly my lady, miss, sir, good evening and good night. I don't even take french, I get this stuff online.**

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The quiet on the cobblestone streets was relaxing. A waning moon provided more then enough light and gave the city a calming glow. The midnight air was chilling. Celeste wrapped herself tightly in her cloak. The large city seemed even bigger without the bustling citizens. Being alone was exactly what Celeste felt she needed. Solemnly she walked down the streets wanting to go anywhere familiar, for home no longer felt like that.

She found herself in the city square in front of Notre Dame. The moon bathed the square in an enchanting blue and silver. It was like nature's stain glass as the light missed certain shadows. Not a soul was in sight nor made any sound. As relieved as Celeste was, a certain oddness filled her with the silence and absence of life. The thought of possibly returning to her home struck her, but she did not feel ready. Walking among the streets alone began to scare her. She wished to find a nice place to sit and ponder.

The perfect place was right in front of her. The stone bridge crossing the river sat silently looking rather inviting. She walked over to the bridge and hopped up on the ledge to lie down on the cold stone and look up to the glittering winter sky. Her arms served as a pillow behind her head. She felt a special solitude on the ledge staring up to the heavens. There was a soothing magic on that bridge. Tilting her head back, she could see the tall gothic bell towers of the cathedral and the beautifully designed front. Paris had never felt like home to her. She never fit in among the natives and was so used to the freedom of the Tuscan fields.

But Celeste felt a relationship with her and Notre Dame. When she lived in Italy her father always spoke of the great city where he was raised. The stories of Notre Dame always fascinated her. The beauty he describe seemed unreal and like a fairy tale. When she arrived in Paris and the existence of the mystical cathedral was proven Celeste was amazed. Being there next to it made her feel not as alone anymore. Like the cathedral was there with her. Whenever she crossed that bridge to the holy house of God, she felt as though she was transported. That bridge was like a portal between one world and the next. From city to sanctuary. Being between the two on the ledge was magical, caught between worlds. That bridge became Celeste's safe haven.

The stillness of the night and calming blessing from Our Lady soothed Celeste and relieved her of all her current problems. She had thought enough of obedience, properness, and the law. Celeste wished to retreat into her own mind glazing at the stars and pray all problems would solve themselves, for Celeste did not feel the need to solve them at the time. She closed her eyes and breathed heavily, taking in the moment, the feeling of peace, something she had not felt in a long time.

"Bonsoir manquer," a man spoke suddenly breaking the serenity. Celeste jolted up from laying down and sat up right, adrenaline rushing through her veins. She turned to look down below the bridge. The handsome gypsy she had run into twice now emerged from under the bridge giving her a friendly smile. Only this time he was dressed in a purple and blue suit and hose instead of his colorful festival and puppet suit. His mask was now gone revealing his dark eyes, but his feather hat was still present. The absence of his bright jingling suit gave him a mien of sophistication, or at least compare to his other suit.

He continued to walk up from underneath and onto the bridge. "Enjoying the moon? I fear I may have intruded."

"Then you have much to fear gypsy," Celeste snapped. She had a feeling she was more scared the he was. What did this gypsy want? Was her there to rob her? Steal her? Or worse. Celeste was unsure of what to do. She knew he was not to be trusted.

"My apologies madam," he did a slight bow. "It just seems we have grown rather fond of bumping into one another." He leaned against the bridge crossing his arms.

"Pure coincidence monsieur. However I doubt this time you are here to entertain me with dancing or puppets."

"I am afraid not my lady. I am here just to admire Paris's natural beauty. It is the best time, when the streets are empty and my moon shines brighter than the sun. It is around this time here I tend to my daily contemplating under the bridge outside Our Lady."

"It is breath taking..." Celeste agreed, getting lost in the sky's lights. But she came back to her senses, remember she was in the presence of a beggar. "Well then gypsy, I feel I should take my leave..."

"Come now, I think we have known each other long enough for you to stop calling me by my title, gypsy. Allow me to introduce myself..."

"I don't think that is necessary."

"It isn't?"

"A gypsy and the daughter of a hard working well respected family should not become too friendly and call each other by name."

"A respected family that allows their daughter to dress like a man?" he pointed out. Celeste had forgotten she had been out of formal gender dress. A blush spread across her face.

"Oh, mercy me. You must find me rather strange now, catching me twice out of a lady's proper attire."

"I am under the impression a gypsy like me is not a liberty to judge a lady of your status." He smirked. Celeste felt guilty and humiliated. How could she have been so rude when all he had done was be very polite? He then removed his hat and did a full bow. "Clopin, King of Beggars."

Celeste was in awe. She was sitting in front of unofficial royalty, and still she was unsure if she should bow down before him. There she claimed to be the daughter of a higher family and he introduces himself as a king. Of all the gypsies she had to be acquainted with it, it was her luck it would be the ruler of them all. But what does this mean? Is he higher then her? Does this give him more power over their situation? And why was a king of a race introducing himself to her?

Celeste felt too overwhelmed and unsure of what to do. She felt she had enough time to reflect and just wanted to go home now and forget this meeting then pray they never meet again.

"A pleasure your highness." She began to adjust herself to jump off the ledge and onto the bridge. "But I best be on my-" she was cut off. She had pushed her hand behind her hoping to push herself off on the ledge, but she missed the stone and forced all her body weight behind her. She began to wobble trying to steady herself, but she began to fall over the edge. "Wah!" she screeched. The gypsy, Clopin, reach for her and grabbed her arm, but she had fallen too far back and they both ended up falling into the once peacefully flowing river.

Her head was plunged under water. Celeste did not know how to swim. Growing up in the country side there was never a need. Fear struck her faster then her body struck the cold water. She kicked and flailed in the water trying to get the surface to breath. She kicked something, or someone. It was the king of beggars who had fallen in with her. In her panic she had forgotten. But it did not matter, for now she would surly drown.

Something wrapped itself around her waist. Celeste was then pulled to the surface were she inhaled a large gulp of air. Still unable to move from confusion, she found herself being dragged to shore. Her mind catching up, she saw it was the gypsy king swimming with her to shore. They both crawled onto the bank of the river coughing and gagging.

"Well, you are graceful," he noted, still lying on his back recovering. "It must be your clothes. They are going to your head." he laughed at his own joke. Celeste was at a loss for words. Her heart rate was still trying to return to normal and she was shivering in the cold. Her cloak was completely soaked and provided little to no warmth now. Seeing her shiver he said, "January really isn't the best time for a swim ma dame. You may catch a cold." She couldn't tell if he was truly concerned for her well being or if was just laughing at her.

She glance at him. He was not shivering as much. "Are you n-not cold?" she asked.

"I grew up where it is cold and damp. I can see you are not accustomed as I am."

"T-thank you. For s-saving m-me." She could hardly talk.

"Well, I failed the first time." He referred to trying to catch her before she fell. "I thought it best I succeed the second time."

With all the strength she could muster Celeste stood up wrapping her arms around herself in attempt to warm herself. It was not working and she longed for her warm bed a dry clothes at home.

"I m-must, get g-going now. Before I c-catch my death." She just wanted to leave. "I t-thank you again for s-saving me gypsy..."

"You cannot call me that anymore my dear. You know my name, use it." he waved a finger, still sitting on the ground. She tried to smile. "Merci, King of Beggars." She still did not feel right addressing him by his proper name.

"Bonne nuit ma dame." He waved. Quickly she walked away going as fast as she could in the cold air which was now only emphasized by the dampness.

It didn't seem long when she finally arrive home. With her shaky hands she tried to open the door silently. The house was still. She snuck up the stairs and tore off the dripping clothes. She threw on a dry night gown and then rung out the her wet outfit outside the window before hiding it back under her mattress. Before crawling under her warm sheets she took a cloth and wiped up the drips of water on the stairs from when she entered. Finally she tucked herself tightly in her bed and just wanted to sleep.

She could not believe what happened. She only left for a walk to think to herself and be away from her family. By the end of the night she had met Paris's King of Beggars who had been the handsome gypsy with the talent she had been admiring since the Festival of Fools. And he was so casual about it, talking to her as if they were equals even though she knew to despise him. It all seemed like too much. And on top of all that, they had both fallen into the freezing cold river outside Notre Dame. It was then in her remembering it dawned on Celeste, "I owe my life to a gypsy."

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**Literary Analysis: yeah most of you won't care about this. But I was reading about Victor Hugo's bias on his book, and he believes Notre Dame to be the main character over Quasimodo. So I tried giving Notre Dame a character in a sense when Celeste was on the birdge. Not very successful, but I tried. Also, Clopin, friggin hard! I wasn't sure if I should make him charming or have a grudge against her for not being a gypsy like he does in the movies. But that grudge will be incorperated soon and his behavior towards Celeste will be further explain as well, yes there is a reason and it is not that he likes her. How cliche. Anyway, sorry for my shpel (I have no idea how to spell that) Review please! I need it!**


	6. The Captain

**Wow, this chapter was so not worth the wait. Believe it or not, but I have more time during the school year to write than I do at the summer. School... shutter... enjoy the ah... infomative chapter. Side note, I don't think I spelled Phoebus's fiance's name right cause I was too lazy to look it up. I just wanted to get this one out since its been so long.**

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There was no sign of Celeste's midnight departure the fallowing morning. Her parents did not suspect a thing. Celeste still wished to forget it had never happened. Even after the previous night's events, Celeste felt renewed. She felt strangely relaxed and pleasant, even after remembering the cruel things said about her from her father to her younger sister. Aside from falling in the river, the walk alone late at night was exactly what she needed.

That day she, Ninette, and Gabriella were going to the other side of the city to pick up a new pair of boots for her father and Gabriella had to pick up something as well. They left early in the morning to start their journey. Ninette sang and skipped the whole way while Gabriella caught Celeste up on the latest gossip.

It was a very nice day out. While the air remained chilled, the sun shined brilliantly. Celeste was enjoying the day with her friend and sister. Everything seemed to be going wrong lately, she was grateful for whatever joy she could find in life. It didn't feel like long when they were done their shopping and started heading home.

"Celeste," Gabriella said, "I need to quickly buy some flour over here. I will return shortly." she informed her, pointing to a bakery as they passed through the market, almost home. The two sisters browsed the other side as they waited for Gabriella. A woman brought out a big basket of shinny red apples. "They look delicious!" Ninette observed. "Oh Celeste, may I have one?"

"They are your favorite aren't they?" Celeste smiled, searching her pocket for whatever money she had left as Ninette nodded. With the last coin she had she paid for the fruit. Ninette's face was full of glee as she sank her teeth into the apple.

A sudden low voice startled Celeste. "Charity! I beg you." A dirty lame man in rages for cloths begged Celeste. His horrid appearance caused her to gasp. Even on a crutch he kept coming closer to her holding out a hand. "Er, sorry sir. That was my last one."

"No change?"

"I can't help you." Celeste grabbed her sister's hand and headed back to the center of the market. Her heart slowly ceased its pounding. She always felt uncomfortable around beggars. They scared her. It was true she had no money left with her. He may have tried to rob her if she did. Naturally she felt sorry for the unfortunate souls, but there was nothing she could do. And no one liked a beggar.

Another person appeared at her side suddenly. Only this time he was much friendlier. "Gingoire!" she exclaimed. He hugged her.

"How nice to see you my dear."

"Gringoire, truly you are my greatest friend. I don't know how to thank you for your gift."

"Just keep smiling like now. It pains me to see you distraught by depressing truths. Be happy."

"Oh I am happy!"

"As am I Celeste. For I must have done something good in giving you that gift." His face showed pure bliss. "I am married."

"Married?" Celeste questioned. It had only been a day since she had seen him and all was normal, and suddenly he is married? It just didn't seem possible.

"It is true! Right after I hid your gift, I stumbled upon a pack of gypsies' in their safe haven. The Court of Miracles! It▓s where all the gypsies in all Paris collect in a lair!"

"The Court of Miracles? How horrible!" Judge Claude Frollo has been after the safe haven for as long as Celeste had been in Paris. Sometimes her father would be sent on pointless chases to find it, but it would always be a dead end. As marvelous as a Court of Miracles sounded, Celeste wasn't sure what would be down there, in a nest of all the scoundrels of Paris. It sounded as dangerous as it did magical.

"Oh, it was at first!" Gingoire continued with his tale. "They were going to hang me for intruding." Celeste gasped but he went on, "My only way out was to become a gypsy if a gypsy girl would marry me. I never felt so judged. When it seemed no women wanted me, from the crowd emerge the beautiful goddess in rags. The banished gypsy dancer, La Esmeralda." He looked off in a daze. Celeste was in shock.

"You married the dancing gypsy? She is the most wanted criminal in all Paris."

"She is far from a sinner. She is a saint who saved my life. I owe her my soul and my love!"

"You are in love then. How wonderful! Even if to a beggar, love finds a way." Celeste felt so excited for her friend. To be married to the brave and enchanting Esmeralda. Gingoire was a lucky fellow. At the same time it seemed strange, the beautiful Esmeralda wanting to marry Gringoire. Celeste of course loved him to death and would also marry him in an instant, but she couldn't imagine that anyone else would.

"Alas, it is a one sided love. She only took me to save me, for she is in love with another. A sun god, Phoebus she told me. Her marriage to me was a pity marriage." He said, lowering his head. But he did not stop smiling.

"Oh Gringoire..." It didn't seem fair, but it did explain it. She made Gringoire believe they were truly married when she only did it out of pity while she was in love with another, this Phoebus fellow.

"But how can I be ungrateful? She saved my life, and has given me new meaning to live. Even if she does not love me, I have the joy of knowing her." His voiced seemed so sincere. Celeste hugged him, as congratulations, and with sorrow. Gingoire was so sweet, the gypsy better treat him right.

She released her friend. "You are aware then, you are married to a fugitive?"

"I am aware of that. And I will guard her with my life." He struck a heroic pose. Never have he looked so noble.

Suddenly he was tackled from behind by a man who looked only slightly younger then him. "Pierre Gringoire! You old reciting goat! How goes the poetry? Surly your rhyming ancient truths have earned some respect from the filth of Paris." The young man let go of him. He had messy black hair and styled beard outlining his face. He was thin and fit and seemed like the kind that was always jolly and up for a bit of tomfoolery. Gringoire's face was not as amused.

"Jehan, your clever remarks will not taunt me today. I beg of you not to ruin my good mood."

"You stomp on all my fun Gringoire. No matter, I would not waste my breath conversing with you, seeing as you would do all the conversing. I would much rather talked with the Lady Orvelle." Jehan turned to Celeste and kissed her hand bowing. "Mademoiselle," He smirked looking up.

"It▓s not like you to be a gentleman Jehan Frollo."

"And since when as it been like you to be a lady? No doubt, you still have the beauty of one. I would take you either way."

"You are flattering. What are you doing outside the University today? It▓s not a holiday."

"I admit, I am playing a bit of hooky today. The University is no fun and I would much rather visit with my dear friends that I have not seen in ages."

"I find that very hard to believe." Gringoire grumbled. Jehan showed a face of defeat.

"I am also out to see my brother at the cathedral."

"Ah ha! Money no doubt." Gringoire accused.

"Part of it, possibly. Your certainly offend me Gringoire."

"That is because I am certain."

"Well you are much cleverer than I. And yet it is you outcaste on the streets, and the ones who don't deserve it in castles and schools. I was just telling my good friend Clopin the other day..."

"Clopin?" Celeste asked, remembering her savior's name. And not only that, but the ruler of all the gypsies in Paris.

"Yes that is his name. Clopin. I doubt many would know him, although everyone has seen him. He is a beggar, but no one bothers with their names."

"It is true I suppose. For one not so clever Jehan, you speak noble truths more then the clergy does."

"It does not take a diploma to see that is around you. Well then, I better get going before the evening mass if I wish to see my brother. Au revoir. And I hope to see more of you my dear Celeste."

"I wish the same Jehan. Au revoir." And he departed toward the church.

"It is hard to believe he is related to that Judge Frollo." Gringoire observed.

"Yes, they are very different." Celeste mindless agreed noticing her sister had gotten bored with the elder friends and wondered off to small talked childishly with the apple seller who seemed to find her adorable.

"The judge has morals unlike that jester."

"He does seem more carefree then his older brother, but I don't know what to make of Frollo's morals as you call them."

"Well he supposed to have them. I have yet to see the just one. He is the enemy of us gypsies." Celeste chuckled.

"I will have to get used to you referring to yourself as a gypsy. Shouldn't take too long I suppose seeing as my parents always thought you were."

"They did?"

Before their conversation could go on Gabriella came rushing over with the flour held in a bag in her arms. "That took much longer then I had anticipated. I am sorry. Oh, hello Gringoire."

"Bonjour Gabriella."

"Thank you for entertaining Celeste and I would love to chat, but we must get going. We were making such good time before my side trip. Let's go Celeste."

"Ninette. Come along now." Celeste called. Her sister said her good byes and skipped over to them. Celeste gave him one last hug, not knowing when she would see him next and what surprises he may bring. They then left the poet. Not too long after it was time for Celeste and Ninette to leave Gabriella and go their separate ways. On the way home Celeste remembered how the subject of the gypsy known as Clopin had yet again found its ways back to her. It seemed impossible for her to avoid him. She hoped it was the last time she would ever have to hear his name. But the thought of him haunted her all the way home.

They arrived right on time. To their surprise her father was home early. "Papa, you are home." Celeste exclaimed seeing him in the kitchen. Ninette ran to him for a hug screaming his name. "Papa! Why are you home early?" she asked still hugging him.

"The Captain let us off early. Speaking of him, he will be joining us for supper tonight, so I would like for you girls to dress nice and help your mother. I wish to make a good impression on the new Captain of the guard."

"What is his name Papa?" Celeste asked.

"Captain Phoebus de Chateaupers."

As Celeste helped prepare dinner the captain's name kept repeating in her ear. Phoebus, Phoebus... where had she heard that name? She had never met the man she was sure of that. But she knew she had heard the name, recently in fact.

She never did figure it out before he arrived. There was a knock on the door and her mother went to answer while the two sisters put the last plates of food on the table.

"The Orvelle house hold I presume?" The captain said when the door opened.

"This is good sir."

"Ah, then you must be the beautiful Rosabell Orvelle I have heard much about." He took her hand and kissed it. Rosabell curtsied.

"You are too kind monsieur. You've been on our front stoop long enough. Do come in."

"Merci madam." The man stepped in. He was wearing dark purple and gold robes. His hair was short and tidy blonde lock and his face was outlined with a well trimmed beard. He was tall and brawny, exactly as one would picture the captain of the guard to look. His face was also kind, something not expected but Celeste was not ungrateful for that feature.

Her father then came down the steps in his nicest dark blue robes, his hair and hair brushed. It had been a long time since Celeste had seen him looking so nice. "Captain Phoebus de Chateaupers! Welcome my friend!" They gave each other a hardy handshake.

"Monsieur Orvelle, you should know by now there is no need to be so formal. Phoebus will do just fine."

"In turn, I insist you address me as Astor my friend." The two men turned to the three women now in the kitchen. "You have met my lovely wife Rosabell. The goddess of Italy." She chuckled elegantly.

"Oh Astor, not now..."

"And these are by beautiful daughters. Celeste is the eldest." Celeste curtsied.

"An honor to meet you monsieur. Welcome to our home."

"Such manners! You must be a proud father Astor." He bowed and extended a hand for Celeste's. "A pleasure meeting you young lady. And God bless the man who wins your hand in marriage." He politely greeted her with a kiss on the hand as well.

"Monsieur de Chateaupers..."

"Call me Captain." He straightened himself.

"Captain, you are too kind for words."

"I get by." He noticed the shy little girl hiding behind her older sister's skirt. He bent down. "And who is this ravishing young lady."

"N-Ninette Monsieur..."

"Well, beautiful Ninette. I thank you for gracing me with your presence." He took her small quivering hand and kissed it as well. Ninette smiled.

"Well my friend," Astor patted the handsome captain in the shoulder. "My beautiful ladies have made a special meal for you on the table. Let▓s get it while it▓s hot!"

The evening meal when incredibly smoothly. They all got along and kept intriguing conversations going, mostly between the two men. Celeste was not sure is the Captain could tell but she knew her father was really trying to impress him. Whenever Phoebus would try to converse with one of the women, but Astor would immediately but in and talk about himself, the captain, or their work. Celeste refused to admit it to herself, but she lost a slight bit of respect for her father.

Astor continued to brag about his captain. Phoebus looked a little uneasy hearing it. Celeste had to wonder why he just didn't order him to cease talking. "And of course after he saved the young maiden she offered him just about everything to repay him. She even offered herself! Of course this was not the first time a woman has thrown herself at him. He is quite the handsome bachelor eh? But not for long right Phoebus?" He gave the captain a pat on the back. Phoebus had been taking a drink, but then a force smack him from behind he tried to stop himself from choking. "The lucky man's engaged!"

"That's wonderful." Celeste said. Her father shot a glare at her.

"Celeste! Don't distract him while he is drinking. You see, you made him choke." Celeste looked away in shame, and tried her best to keep her anger inside. Never had she seen her father act so cruelly.

"Ahem, no Astor, I'm fine. And I thank you for happiness Celeste." She smirked at his kind face.

"Congratulations Captain. Who is the lucky lady?" Rosabell asked.

"Fleur de Lays." Phoebus answered with a timid smile.

"You'll live happily ever after with your princess. Like in the stories right?" Ninette said innocently. Phoebus started to laugh. So did everyone else.

Another sound stopped their laughter. There was a knock on the door. "Captain! Orvelle! It▓s Antoine! You both in there?" Astor came to the door.

"Antoine?"

"The gypsy witch! She has been spotted. All guards are to report to Frollo. Now!"

"Alright, I shall get my armor. I'll be right down." He rushed up stairs.

"I should get ready to go too." Phoebus stood up.

"Celeste, get him his coat from the closet." Her mother commanded. She got up and went to the other side of the hall to grab his cloak. When she turned around, Phoebus was there.

"I'll take that mademoiselle. I better wait for your father." He took the cloak and threw it over himself.

"So, you are going after La Esmeralda?"

"Thoughs are our orders."

"What exactly are her crimes?" Celeste realized she let the unnecessary question.

"Insulted an official, disturbed the peace, thief, witchcraft..." She looked down in defeat.

"Oh..."

"Something wrong?" He asked seeing her face. Seeing his concerned face, Celeste felt very comfortable. She forgot all about her father's wishes, and spoke honestly to the man.

"I just, have a hard time figuring out what she has done wrong." There was a strange moment of silence, but before Celeste could regret was she had said, Phoebus spoke.

"You and me both." Celeste's head snapped up. Footsteps trampled down the steps.

"Okay Captain, I'm ready, let's get that witch." Astor said. The Captain of the guard bowed.

"Pleasure meeting you ladies. Sorry to cut it short. Thank you for the lovely evening."

"Captain! Let's go!" Antoine said at the door with Astor next to him.

"Coming men. Good night everyone." And with that, the guards left.

It all fit together there and then under Phoebus's kindness. It was like all of the magic words had been said. Phoebus... marriage... Esmeralda... This dashing captain was the man that had stolen Esmeralda's heart according to Gringoire. Then what was Esmeralda to him if he was engaged?


	7. Angry Thoughts

**Yeah, I like to built suspense. After the lame little chapter, it should start getting good. I've gotten more readers, and I am so excited! Thank you so much for reviewing. They are what keep me going!**

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It had been almost a week since Esmeralda gave the royal guard the slip again. Ever since it seemed the whole city was to be stripped until she was found. It seemed no other criminal or disaster mattered until the gypsy was in custody. The idea of obsessing of one girl some what annoyed Celeste. She was still some what upset with her father for his cruelty recently. Fir her revenge, all she could do was hope that Esmeralda was never found.

The days were not getting any warmer. It anything, Paris seemed colder as the winter progressed. Astor was gone most of the time, so Celeste got to stay at home and play with her cherished sister. With the absence of her father and the lack of events after having so much happen so fast, things seemed somewhat normal. Celeste felt content, and she liked that. But the fact that for the first time in her life she found herself prickly toward her father, the only man she ever respected, was eating her up. It seemed life was not getting much better.

On a some what clearer day, Celeste chose to go into the town square with her two friends, Gabriella and Marquel. It had been a while since all three got to spend time together since Marquel had been at the docks learning his family trade, but they finally decided to cease an opportunity when he wasn't working.

As usual, Marquel and Celeste waited for a late Gabriella. "That girl's sense of timing is the worst. She'll be late to her own funeral." Celeste said fifteen minutes after they're decided rendezvous time.

"Yes, the suspense is quite torturous."

"Suspense isn't the word I was looking for. However I am confident her high pitched scream will come before she makes a physical appearance."

"She has been like that since we were children. It's rather adorable." Celeste wanted to stop talking about Gabriella if Marquel was going to react that way. Seeing him look hopefully in the direction of her home made Celeste just look down to avoid that blissful face of his.

"Marquel! Celeste!" As predicted, before the shinning blonde squeezed her way threw the crowd, her high excited voice called to her friends. She embraced Marquel in a huge jumping hug. "Sorry I'm late."

"You always are." Celeste said.

"It's okay, as long as you are here now." She smiled and hugged him tighter.

"Alright, now that we are all here, let us go, before the crowd steps on us."

They all enjoyed walking around the harbor for the day. Most of the time they kept themselves amused by reliving childhood memories and throwing stones in the river. The walk around the square was just as fun. Celeste loved spending this time with her friends, even if the two could get annoying.

A cart of gypsy jewelry was open, and Gabriella insisted on taking a look. While she gawked at the shinning stones with Marquel the respond to her Celeste noticed fresh new apples out for sale. She only had one franc with her and figured she could buy an apple for her sister. "Friends, I'll be over here for a moment purchasing some goods. I'll return in a bit."

"Certainly." Marquel seemed to be the only one that heard her.

Celeste gave the seller her coin and thanked her. She placed the apple in the pocket of her apron and turned around to head back to the front of the square.

"Bonjour mademoiselle." A familiar voice greeted her. Next to her had appeared the gypsy king, Clopin. Celeste was amazed she even remembered his name, but even more amazed he would approach her like this in public. He was dressed in rags and held a cane, no doubt for earning sympathy and earning money. But even underneath was awful garments, his strong frame and handsome face could no be denied. "It has been so long. Have you missed me?"

"You...that gypsy..." Her shock enabled her to speak.

"Come now, I told you my name, use it. Unless you have forgotten. It has been awhile. Maybe I need to reintroduce myself."

"It would be better if you remained forgotten you royal beggar. Why must you keep fallowing me?"

"Fallow dear? Not at all. I like to think its fate."

"I like to think it's a curse. Now leave me be gypsy"  
"Clopin madam, Clopin. That is my name. Even though I still do not know what to address you as."

"Never would I let you call me by name..."

"Celeste!" She felt her heart sink at the sound of that high excited voice. From behind her Gabriella was racing for her dragging Marquel behind her. "Celeste Orvelle! We have been looking for you!" Her cheery smile blinded her from the fact Celeste was glaring intensely at her.

"Celeste is it? What a nice name. To bad I must take my leave now, and after we were so getting to know each other. Pity isn't it? Well, at least I can say my farewells properly. Good day my dear Celeste, and until next time." Before she could snap back at him, the gypsy Clopin had danced off, most likely back to his begging.

"A friend of yours Celeste?" Marquel asked suspiciously. Celeste had no idea what the best answer would be.

"An acquaintance, yes. I was just so shocked; it had been such a long time since I'd seen him. No matter. I fear I must be getting home now."

"Us too. I had a wonderful time with you both today."

"Me too! We should do this more often." Gabriella said.

"Agreed. Well, farewell friends!" Celeste waved to them, and headed back towards home, with only that fool, Clopin, on her angry mind.

That evening was the first her father was able to dine with them in a long time. The three women had made all his favorites to celebrate. The majority of the meal was him ranting on about the search of the gypsy girl. Celeste had now become fascinated with the clever girl. She was like a town legend, an idol figure not to take examples from, but still she could not get rid of the image.

"Anyhow, enough about the witch." Astor wiped his mouth with his cloth. "In two day time, Antoine and his wife will be having a dinner party that we are to attend. So do prepare your best dresses. I would especially like you to meet his son Celeste. He is only two year older than you, and I hear quite an educated gentlemen. He has a fine future in the banking business. And handsome too."

"How nice." Rosabell commented.

"He sound wonderful father. I'd be delighted to meet him."

"Yes, it would to you well to see sophisticated men child. With you fast maturity, it is high time you take serious thought to marriage."

Her fork clattered onto the plate. Marriage? Is that what this was about? Giving his daughter away? Celeste had no idea. And now, she was opposed to meeting this said gentleman.

"Sis, you alright?" Ninette asked looking up at her.

"Oh, fine Ninette dear. Just slipped through my fingers." She attempted a chuckle. "Not my best elegance." Ninette beamed up at her to cheer her up. But this still did not cast out the grim thought of settling down with some man only her father liked. Celeste wished not to think about it now. It seemed like too much at once.

After cleaning up everyone went to bed. Celeste was still pensive about the matter brought up at dinner. She only lay on her bed staring at the ceiling, not even bothering to change into her nightgown. How could her father be doing this to her? None of it seemed fair. Even more strange, Celeste managed to be angry at her father, and still be thinking about the reoccurring gypsy at the same time. Neither thought was pleasant. For some reason she kept thinking of the so called gentlemen of Antoine's as an annoying fool like Clopin. The two thoughts mixing together where not helping her cope.

The urge to leave her house had filled her again like the night her father threw out her men's clothes. Without a second thought, she jumped from her coat without even grabbing her cloak and walked down the stairs to the familiar dark streets. She just wanted to return to her safe haven, between this harsh reality and the unreal towers of Notre Dame.

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**Sorry its so short. I just really wanted to get another chapter out, and fast so I can write the good stuff. Hope you arent too upset.**


	8. Equals

**Right, so when I checked my reviews I was too much in a bad mood to respond so I am just gonna do that now... deal with it. For one, I had the question is Celeste has a hard time making friends, how did she become friends with Gabriella and Marquel so fast. Well they have been friends since she moved to Paris. Let's count her friends now; Marqul, Gabriella, Gringore, Jehan...only 4. Not too many. Second, if she said her father was the only man she respected, whats the deal with her an Gringore. He is her friend... but he is a bit of a pansy. She loves him, but she was taught to respect her father's authority. End. Anyway, to my Gringore fan, sorry he is not in this part, but I promise to put him in the next! Now I have taken up enough of your reading time. On with the show!**

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Somewhere along the short walk, Celeste lost herself in her train of thought. It seemed like she just looked up and somehow her legs had taken her to the empty town square. It was only then when she came back to her senses she realized how horrible the weather was. The streets were damp and the air humid making an uncomfortable chill. There was a light fog over the ground. However the sky was a clear with stars and clouds illuminated by the half moon.

It was strange. She thought she had come there to mull over all her troubling thoughts. But for some reason, she just felt nothing. No concern, so sadness or fret. With the quiet of the night her thoughts were quiet too. But she still couldn't bring herself to go home. She continued over to her bridge and just crossed her arms on the wall and rested her head staring blankly at the shinning water.

This sudden feeling of apetheticness wasn't better than her overwhelming thoughts. She tried to bring herself to try and think of a solution, but it was as if something was distracting her and she went back to the dark void she pictured in her mind. Perhaps a side effect to her depression. It was like she couldn't feel anything. No emotion, to stress, no despair, not even the cold damp air on her skin. It seemed she had lost all interest in her concerns, and just for one night she wanted to give in to the nothingness.

"What a pleasant surprise," It was then she finally felt something, startlement. She snapped up straight. "Although, I can't say it is a surprise." It was The King of Beggars himself yet again. He was wearing his feathered purple hat again and purple and blue stockings and shirt, but to shield himself from the cold he had a brown mouth eaten cloak that somehow looked good with his bright outfit.

Celeste was only wide eyed for a moment, but then she lost interest. The last person she wanted to see was him. Why does he always appear at the worst times? She only sighed, "Oh, its you. That beggar..."

"You still don't use my name. Well, yours is much more beautiful than mine. So I hope you don't mind, but I will be using yours, Madam Celeste."

She didn't even have the stamina to glare at him. She resumed her blase stare in the water. "I'm not in the mood gypsy. So...just leave me be." Clopin actually gave a perplexed reaction.

"You're not as snappy as usually." He walked up next to her looking in the same direction as her. "And yet, I sense a coldness much more bitter then usually."

Celeste was quiet. She didn't even look up. This gypsy really wasn't helping. Now she only felt she was as easy to read as a book. If possible, she was feeling more depressed now then ever. For a few moments, the two of them just continued looking into the water, Celeste hiding half her face in her sleeves and Clopin just standing next to her with a sly smile.

"Why," Celeste was able to mumble, "Why must you fallow me everywhere?"

He chuckled. "Fallow? Not at all. I come out here almost every night. And it was pretty unbelievable we met in the square. I'd like to think it's fate." His answer did not help.

"Then why, when so many times I tell you to go away, you just keep talking to me?"

"Because," he smirked, "I hate you just as much as you hate me."

At that sound of his answer, Celeste made a reaction. She straighten herself to look at him. He said he hated her, only he said it pleasantly, and with a smile on his face. Only shortly before her mind had been idle, but now it was racing trying to find answers.

Without even looking at her he knew what her question was. "I despise you higher class people, always looking down on people like me. There isn't a nobleman or commoner that I am fond of. I stick to my own kind."

"But then- why are you always to polite and speak to me like we're equals?" Celeste's voice had more emotion in it than his cheery answer. She did not enjoy this gypsy messing with her.

"Well," he turned to her, still with that smirk, "I wanted to prove you wrong and show you we are equals, whether you know it or not."

The confusion his response left her in resulted in her mind going blank once more. It was as if nothing made sense anymore, and she was suddenly reminded of everything going wrong, and she was reminded of the hate she felt for this gypsy.

"Why that is preposterous!" She became stern. "In no way am I anything like you! You are rude, a stalker and a scheming beggar. How dare you compare us!"

The man didn't even flinch or show any sign of harm. Instead, he only smiled wider and chuckled again. "That's the Celeste I know."

Her anger was replaced with shock and that familiar confusion only he could cause. All became quiet as he only beamed at her while she stared emotionless and blank with only a slight blush on her face to give a hint of what she might be feeling.

The stillness and silence was joined by a chilling breeze. Celeste crossed her arms and shivered. She was, after all, only in her work garments which was a thin earth green dress and had forgotten her cloak.

The gypsy king untied the front of his cloak and slide it off. Celeste felt something wrap around her shoulders. Looking up she saw the handsome gypsy tying it around her neck just smiling. She had not seen him this close, but she admired his every feature from him full narrow face and natural smile. His dark eyes twinkled as he concentrated on tying the string around her neck. His dark hair seemed the glisten just as much, and he smelled of fresh incense. All she could do was stare with her mouth open as if to say something, and that blush still had not faded.

He stepped away still smiling and just looked at her. She look down at the old cloak. Despite its appearance, it was rather warm. She glanced back up at the gypsy. He simply tipped his hat and bowed. "Bonne nuit, mademoiselle Celeste." He turned and began to walk away towards the cathedral.

She reached out an arm, the other hand clutching the cloak, "Monsieur Clopin!" he stopped. "Merci..." was all she could say. He only turned his head, "Hm," he smirked, "you used my name..." She took a step back not realizing what she had done. What spell had this gypsy caste on her to make her act this way.

He turned his head back around and continued walking around the church and out of sight. Seeing him leave, Celeste noticed she felt- normal again and not so empty. As if there was room for emotion again. Was it because of that gypsy?


	9. At the Well

**Oh my, I am a horrible person. I am so sorry it took me this long to update. I hope I haven't lost any readers. And after I was getting a few more too! I guess that's what I deserve. I must also apoligize for this somewhat dull chapter. But the next one will be great! I promise. Gringoire is in this one though!...briefly... hides For anyone who cares, I am gonna just updates on my author page thingy that will have me checking in and putting up the progress of the next chapters and possible estimated dates of publishing. I wanna speed this story up before I loose readers and I loose interest (thats happens...)**

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"Celeste, Celeste dear wake up." Celeste groaned in her sleep in turned on her side. "What has gotten into you? The day will laugh at you, now get up you have to go to the well for me today." Her mother said then left the room. Celeste slowly sat up groaning again. The sun blinded her for a moment and she threw her hand in from of her eyes still not awake enough to comprehend it was morning.

"Celeste!" A higher pitched voice screamed happily. Into the room came running little Ninette, her ebony curls bouncing up and down. She pounced onto Celeste's bed which startled her. "Its late sis. Are you feeling well?" The little girl asked, concern in her glistening green eyes. It always made Celeste smile.

"I'm fine Ninette. Rough night sleeping." She responded patting her little sister's head. She was finally becoming aware of her surroundings and her memory returned to her.

"I helped make breakfast! Hurry and come down before it gets cold."

"That sounds wonderful Ninette. I'll be down in a moment."

"Hurry slow poke!" Her sister said as she dashed out the room. Celeste smile still had not faded. She glanced outside. It was a cloudless winter day and the sun was shinning brightly. Hard to believe after the cold foggy night. Looking down Celeste saw the old brown cloak sticking out of he mattress where she had hidden it. Seeing it gave her mixed feelings. She felt strange having the property of the beggar in her home, under her bed. Almost like betrayal. But also she felt indebted to him. Which only reminded her of his words, "I hate you just as much as you hate me." Hearing this Celeste felt a new found respect for Clopin, and thought maybe it wouldn't hurt to start using his name.

After eating her breakfast Celeste grabbed her cloak and headed out with a bucket to the well. The town was rather lively that day. Celeste still felt rather tired and was staring off as she stood in line at the well. She was aroused when she heard cheerful music near by. Looking up she saw a gypsy band that was drawing a small crowd. The music reminded her of Clopin. The image of him in the moonlight with that all knowing smile and the calming smell of incense came to her mind. The image drew a smile to her lips. But then she gasped. The thought of Clopin made her smile, and she couldn't understand why.

"For the final time, I said no!" The voice of an irritated Gringoire met her hears and she turned in the direction it came from.

"Just one interpretation and analysis. Come on Pierre, for a friend please." Jehan was trailing behind him begging.

"No beggar is a friend of mine."

"I find little truth in that statement." Celeste smirked. Gringoire at first was surprised to see her but then laugh.

"Well what I mean to say is, selfish beggars like this slacker who is trying to get me to do his university work."

"But there is a celebration occurring tonight at Apple of Eve's pub that I will regret missing and this assignment is due tomorrow. And Pierre here refuses to help out an old bosom buddy."

"Tell me, where was I when I agreed to be your bosom buddy!"

Celeste chuckled. "Now here is a stranger I don't see often." Jehan smiled at her. "Maybe you can join me at my little celebration. Maybe a drink will loosen you up."

"I am not that kind of girl Jehan. I am a lady."

"One that prefers dressing in slacks rather than skirts."

"Those days are over."

"A shame. I enjoyed that unique quality about you. Oh, I see another university student. Perhaps I can persuade him to do my assignment. I'll be off now friends. Pleasure seeing you." Jehan than dashed off into the crowd.

"Celeste, you look slightly paler, are you ill?" Gringoire asked sounding worried.

"Lack of sleep is all, I sure you Gringoire. No need to worry. But who is the gypsy life treating you?"

"I tell you this because I trust you ask my closest friend." He lowered his voice and put his hands on her shoulders. "I have been rather busy hiding my dear Esmeralda."

"You have?" He nodded. "Then you know where she is?"

"Yes, I have been taking care of her. She has been hiding from place to place. It has been getting harder with Frollo chasing after her." Celeste looked down with concern. "Do you not approve of what I am doing? I ask since you are the daughter of a royal guard member."

"No, of course I approve. If anything I have become a supporter of this Esmeralda."

"Really? Why is that?"

"Well, I suppose I respect her for doing what I could never do at the Festival of Fools. It seems like ages ago. But also when she began on the run at the same time I started having disagreements with my father. I guess I am living rebelliously through her, running away from the guards that my father symbolizes."

"That's very touching Celeste. I promise I'll let you meet her some day."

"Really? That would be wonderful!"

"Gringoire, I had no idea you were aquatinted with Celeste." Another person entered the conversation."

"Bonjour Clopin." Gringoire greeted.

"Bonjour Gringoire, Celeste..."

"Huh? Gringoire, you know him?" Celeste asked.

"Of course. He rules the Court of Miracle. That and he tried to hang me when I first stumbled into the court."

"You did that!?" Celeste scolded at Clopin.

He only shrugged. "He was an intruder. Can't be too careful with how many people try to kill us gypsies."

"Why you..."

"Celeste, it's alright. It was understandable. And Clopin is actually a kind person."

Celeste began to blush. It seemed understandable. Yet again she was jumping to conclusions.

"I see..."

"Celeste! Gringoire!" The familiar sound of Gabriella screaming coming closer toward them. She was holding a bucket and Marquel was behind her with a basket of fish.

"Gringoire, I haven't seen you in a while." Marquel said. "We've just come to drop off some fish at the market." He struggled to hold the heavy basket. Gringoire ran to help him carry it.

"Might I assist you?" He asked.

"That would be most helpful, thank you."

"I need to help them too, but I also was supposed to get water from the well." Gabriella said. "Celeste, would you be a dear and fill this bucket for me before the line gets too long?"

"Well er..." Gabriella shoved pale into her hands and ran after the other two.

"Merci Celeste!" She left her standing there with the two buckets and her mouth open in confusion. She sighed. "How am I going to carry to buckets of water?"

"I'll help you." Celeste had forgotten Clopin was still there smirking.

"No thank you, I can do it myself. She headed for the end of the line. He began to fallow her.

"But you'll be carrying two heavy pales yourself."

"I believe I can manage it."

He walked right in front of her, stopping her in her tracks. He held out his gloved hand with a sincere smile. There was nothing but kindness in his eyes. This surprised her. "Please, as a gentleman. Let me assist a lady in need."

Celeste was so lost in his intentions, and his dark eyes. The surprise disabled her movements. One of the buckets in her grasped slipped away. She realized he had taken it and was standing in line with her. She only looked forward and stayed silent. The line was rather long. It looked like there was around ten others in front of them. They took a step forward.

"So, those two, the lady and the gentleman. They are your friends no?"

She nodded. "Yes. About my only ones aside from Gringoire."

"I assume you all are close."

"I suppose. I've known them since I moved here seven years ago."

"From where?"

"Tuscany. In Italy."

"Ah, so you are Italian. So tell me, why would you move from the country side of Tuscany to urban Paris."

"My father's work."

"I do recall you mentioning him being a respectable person. What does he do?"

With a smug look she replied, "He is a member of the royal guard."

Clopin, however, didn't look threatened at all. "Well, that would certainly explain your distrust of gypsies." The line progressed.

"It's part of it."

"Oh, so there is another reason?" She remained silent. "Won't you share with me?"

"It is none of your concern."

"I was simply curious. It makes for good conversation." She still did not even look at him. "Come now, what am I going to do with a secret like that? Think of it as a question from a concerned friend, after all I've done for you."

This surprised Celeste. Of all the things he could ask for in return for saving her life and allowing her his cloak, he asks for a story. But she did feel indebted to him. And if she shared with him her reason, then they would be even and she would not have to worry about paying him back. It seemed like a good deal.

"Fine. But after this, we are even, on your request."

"Perfect."

Celeste sighed, then took a breath. "A few years ago, I accompanied my father on a long term trip. And while I was there I was rather taken by a young man who I became friendly with. After a while, I developed a deep trust for him, and deeper feelings as well. But then, one day, he stole all the possessions I had taken with me on the trip. But I saw him before I left. He never felt a thing for me. And the betrayal shattered me. In terms of trust, and it made me believe that no one will ever love me."

They took a few steps forward. Celeste only looked down and Clopin remained silent. But Celeste smirked. "When I came back, I found myself fancying Marquel. But at the same time, he and Gabriella got closer. And it seems they were truly meant for each other. That's when I truly gave up on the idea of find someone who would care for me."

Clopin looked up wisely. "I see. Heartbreak could make anyone feel the way you do."

"After that I believe most of what my parents told me about gypsies. All they do is steal and deceive. Something I learned from experience."

The line moved forward again. There was a chilling breeze that blew through her curly hair.

"May I tell you a story in return?"

She turned to him. 'I thought we agreed I would tell him in exchange for saving me at the bridge...' she thought.

"I am sure you are aware of the war that occurred a long time ago. It lasted a hundred years. Many lives were lost, but not near as many that would be ruined after words. When survivors came back, their towns and jobs were gone. But when they looked for work, no one would offer them any. They became wonderers and had to steal and use their skills to survive. Those wonderers became known as gypsies. Human's only trying to do what they must to live."

Celeste's jaw dropped. Never had she ever thought about the origin of gypsies. Or that the reason would be so cruel. Mindlessly she whispered, "I- I don't believe it."

"Believe what you will." He smiled. "But that is the sad truth of beggary."

They were now at the front of the line. Celeste went first and filled her bucket and then Clopin filled the second one. As they left the line, white flakes gracefully fell from the sky. The whole town looked up. "Ah, it's snowing." Celeste looked up and watched them fall from the bright clouds. It was rather peaceful. She glanced over at Clopin. He was looking up too with an outstretched hand and warm smile. She couldn't stop staring at him. For some reason seeing his warm face made her feel, happy.

"My, can you believe it?" Gabriella can back over looking at the snow smiling. Marquel and Gringoire were behind her. "I better get going before it gets colder. Oh, you got my water Celeste."

"Er, yes. Here you are." She handed her friend the bucket in her hand.

"I'll walk you home." Marquel said. They both waved good bye and left.

"I better be on my way too. Mother will worry."

"Your water then madam." Clopin handed her the bucket.

"Hope you don't mind me leaving. We hardly got to talk Gringoire."

"Nothing to worry about my dear. I will be off with my collogue Clopin here."

"Um, thank you Clopin." Celeste thanked him.

"Anytime Celeste." He smiled, and she headed off. Hearing him say her name like that. She felt that same joy she felt after seeing him smile.

She wiped her feet upon entering her house. "Celeste?" Her mother emerged from the kitchen. "Your wet."

"Yes, it started snowing."

"Snow!" Her little sister ran down the stairs. "It's snowing? Can I go play in it?"

Celeste chuckled. "I'm afraid it is not deep enough to do much in. If it keeps up, maybe later."

"Will you come out with me too?"

"Of course." Ninette smiled and trotted back up the stairs.

Celeste dropped the pale in the kitchen with her mother and went up the stairs herself until she had to assist with making the meal. After closing her door she went to take her shoes off by her bed. Looking down she remember the tattered old cloak of Clopin's under her mattress. She removed it and looked at it. It looked like it could be fixed with a bit of patch work and a needle and thread. Unsure of what was driving her, Celeste walked over to her dresser and took out her sowing kit. She sat in her rocking chair with the cloak and needle and got to work patching up the cloak until dinner.

**I don't know if that gypsy story is entirly true. I got if off one of the old Hunchback movies. Sorry again for the slow updates... and rather slow plotline. But its speeds up in the next one! I'm excited to write it!**


	10. Angel In the Belltower

It was very likely he wouldn't even be there. And yet Celeste found herself, again, walking the lonely streets of Paris at night with the cloak she had finished stitching only a few hours ago folded in her arm. The air was still chilly as she tugged her own black cloak closer to her. The night was clear this time. As usual the cobbled streets were completely deserted. The moon laminated the few small lingering clouds and stars glimmered and glistened. Even if Clopin didn't show up Celeste was glad she went out to see the calming scene.

She stood at her usually spot by the bridge. She was strangely tired and let out a yawn, something a lady should never do. She had been waiting there for over two hours just indulging Paris's nocturnal sounds, sights and smells. 'Maybe I should just leave it here for him' she debated to herself. 'But someone could take it or it could get blown into the river. Should I wait until I see him again? No, I can't carry this around until then.' With a last glance at the sky and at the cathedral Celeste sighed. 'I suppose I shall try another night.'

She shifted her feet to head back down the bridge and towards home. "Bonjour mademoiselle." Celeste jumped at the familiar voice and muffled her shriek somehow. She turned around to see a mask less Clopin casually sitting against the end of the bridge atop the wall, one purple slippered foot dangling on the side, the other up so this elbow could rest on it and his cheek lay in his palm, smirking at her with a dreamy face.

"What a cruel trick monsieur." Celeste caught her breath. "What possessed you to do such a thing?" she frowned at him.

"I apologize. I only wished for you to know I was here. You were waiting for me after all, no?" She stiffened and blushed.

"I came to return this to you. That is all." She extended the arm with the cloak folded over it. Clopin jumped back on his hands almost to a handstand but elegantly pushed himself off and landed on the ground as softly as a cat. She was taken aback as he strutted over to her and took the cloak. Upon feeling the itchy yet cozy fabric leave her arm she felt certain emptiness, as if a part of something she held dear to her had been taken from her, but she couldn't understand why.

He held up the cloak and examined the patchwork. "I see you fixed it up for me. And here I believed us to be even."

"We were, but then you told me that tale of the gypsies and the war, so I owed you again. But this is where is ends. Logic says we never need to cross paths after this." She hoped she had put together all loose ends loud and clear.

He threw on the cloak and adjusted it. "That would make me very sad, to never see you again." He stepped closer.

Celeste was at a lost for words. Here Clopin said he wanted to see her again and was getting closer. Her heart was pounding and she felt her blood rush to her face. What was happening to her? Why did this always happen when she was so close to that smile?

"Wah-what to you mean monsieur?"

"Won't you please call me Clopin?" He came even closer so there was only a small space between them. He leaned forward. Celeste couldn't move. She found herself trapped in that gaze of his, those entrancing black eyes and that sly smile that could see right threw you. The whole thing was strangely pleasing. She couldn't quite place why she felt this way. So many factors seemed to go into it. Here she was, at her favorite place between heaven and earth, at some ungodly hour in the morning with a man who has saved her life and seemed to be affecting it with every time they met. He has made her rethink everything she had once believed. How could he, a gypsy effect her so much? It seemed for this reason she should hate him, and for the longest time she was sure she had. But suddenly, it seemed like she owed him more then a patched up cloak.

"Clopin..." she found herself whispering on his request. The quiet and solitude that at possessed the streets every time she had been there suddenly shattered with the yell of a guard.

"You two!" It came from behind her. She wiped her head around to see a patrolling guard. Her heart began to race in panic. "Gypsies! What are you doing out here? You're under arrest."

She tried to gasped, but before she could Clopin's gloved hand was tightly around her wrist. "Looks like we were caught. Let's go!" He said, still smirking. Before Celeste's mind had time to agree with her, she found herself being dragged by Clopin over the bridge and dashing around the corner of the church with a guard screaming after them.

Celeste only could mindless fallow wherever Clopin was taking her. She only looked up at him, only seeing his hat with the large feather covering the back of his head. She realized this is the first time she would be with Clopin outside of the city square. It didn't matter to her where she was going. She felt like she was being trapped again. Being chased by a guard like her father, or fallowing a gypsy. But she didn't want to think about that harder decision. Right now, she felt she would fallow Clopin wherever he would go. It was like an escape, an escape from all the horrible events currently plaguing her life. It was as if Clopin was saving her again that night.

The guard continued to scream from behind them. It only hit her then that that could be caught. What would her family say if she was arrest with a gypsy late at night? Panic filled her again. What will they do? Where could they hide? They seemed to be sticking around the perimeter of the church. They rounded another corner and there was a gate that lead into a small courtyard. Clopin opened it and they dashed in a hide behind the wall to catch their breath. If the guard found them, they were at a dead end. Celeste looked up at Clopin who was now looking around for a solution with an expressionless face. He seemed worried now too. The guard was surely getting closer, but there was nowhere to go.

A low whispering voice came from nowhere. "Quickly! This way!" The two looked around the courtyard. Hidden in the corner a dim light was spilling out of a door into the church. A short but large shadowy figured held the door open. When it saw they had seen it, it disappeared inside. They only hesitated for a moment until the heard the guard yelling again and they ran to their savior.

Clopin shut the door. It was very warm inside. It looked like the back of the church. There were only wooden beams and a narrow staircase that was brightly lit leading up.

The voice came again. "Up here." They looked up. It was surly a man. He was crouching on a beam high above them. How did he get up there so fast. "This way." He signaled them before swinging out of sight, jumping from beam to beam, going higher and higher. Seeing no other choice, Clopin and Celeste headed up the stairs.

They were silent the whole way up at a loss for words. Both were still rather confused. But Celeste felt certain she knew who this was. A stout man who wouldn't stay in sight for very long, who could swing from beams and knew his way around the church. It had to be the bell ringer. But why would he help them? Celeste felt somewhat scared again. She didn't know why she felt this way around the hunchback but she found herself moving closer to Clopin. He saw this and put his arm around her. It made her feel strangely safe.

They did eventually reach the top of the stairs. Celeste gasped. The space was brightly lit even though it was late at night. The many candles reflected off the bells making even more lights. It seemed clear they were at the top of the bell tower of the cathedral Notre Dame. It seemed they had claimed up multiple stairs, looking up the tower still went higher. Among all the wooden beams were more and more brass bells. All the beams needed to keep the tower up took up most of the room but there was still a vast amount of space.

At the end of the room was the front of the cathedral. There was a large open window looking out at Paris. In front of it was a table with something on it. Celeste and Clopin walked forward together. There was a miniature hand carved model of the city along with some citizens. Celeste could not believe how truly magical the cathedral was both in and out, even in places she didn't expect.

"You shall be safe here until the guards have gone." Their savior mysteriously reappeared. The sudden voice made Celeste jolt and grab Clopin tightly for a moment. Up in the rafters was a misshapen shadow gracefully swung down to the floor only to still hide in the shadows. "Leave when you're ready." he said shyly. He began to retreat further into the shadows until she stopped him and stepped away from Clopin. "Wait!" The figure stopped. "You're the bell ringer, Quasimodo, are you not?" He fiddled with her large hands nervously.

"Y-yes."

She thought she had something to say but now she went blank. "H-how did you know to help us?"

He sounded even more nervous. "Well I-I um, I watch you two. Every night. From the tower, on the bridge. I saw them chase you." Celeste turned to the window that looked out over Paris. The bridge was indeed clear visible. As she turned back to Quasimodo she bumped into the table and knocked two unpainted figures over. She reached for them to put them right side up. She gazed at the first figure. It was a hand carved version of her. The other one was Clopin, hat, mask and all. They were so beautiful they almost brought her to tears.

She went back to were he stood in the dark hiding his deformed face. She sincerely asked, "Won't you please come out? So I can thank you to your face?"

He hesitated. After he shuffled his feet for a moment, Quasimodo stepped into the candlelight. It was the first time Celeste got a perfect view of the famous face. He looked at her for a reaction. Mustering all her courage she swallowed her fear. Surprisingly it didn't take much force. She took her hands and grabbed one of his. Hers were much smaller and darker. She smiled at him. "Merci, Quasimodo." He wasn't able to say anything back. Clopin then came over. Celeste stepped aside and Clopin gave him and friendly handshake. "Thank you my friend." He patted him on the back making poor Quasi jolt forward. "We'll never forget this." Celeste chuckled.

Clopin took his place next to Celeste smiling. Quasi did a slight nervous bow but was clearly smiling proudly for what he had done. He started to turn away. Celeste stopped him again, "Quasimodo," he faced her again. "I must ask, why did you save us?"

"Well, I suppose I am rather intrigued by your relationship. When I watch you two on the bridge, it makes me happy. It's like Heaven's Light." Celeste was taken aback by his answer. Quasi smiled. He then climbed off up to the bells. She figured he had some work to do. Now she and Clopin were alone.

She walked over to the window again to gaze at the beautiful city. Clopin walked up next to her.

"Its so beautiful." she said in a dreamy voice.

"Paris; the city of love you know." Celeste turned to him quickly. His voice had startled her. She had not realized he was next to her. And he was close. She had never been so close to his handsome face. In the candle light all of his admirable featured showed brightly. It was strange. For the first time she felt awkward around Clopin. Her face felt hot and her stomach churned. The silence was so uncomfortable.

Clopin did a kind of hushed laugh, or more a sigh with a smile. "I am certain you weren't very fond of being chased and forced to hide in church. I am at fault for this." He avoided her eyes. Was he apologizing? Celeste had not once blamed him for this. She didn't even find herself upset about it. Clopin then slowly lifted his head. For once his face was not full of jest, but a look of affection in his dark eyes. "However, I am glad I am here with you."

Celeste was certain her face had a dark blush. She felt even hotter now and at a lost for words. His face looked so sincere. Celeste just then realized how taken she was by his face, his jesters, his character, and everything he did. She could never avoid him, and now she was sure she never wanted to be away from him. "Clopin..." she whispered.

There had been no need for a response. Clopin had now gotten closer to her face. Close enough that there lips had met. Celeste, never feeling happier, closed her eyes and was lost in the kiss over Paris, the city of love.

* * *

**EEK! Its been too long! Explaination is on my author page. I hope this chapter is worth it! I think so, heh heh. A few things, one, on my author page i have some links to banners i made for my story. Also there is one of how i picture clopin rather then the disney-fied version. kinda the same but handsomer. not drawn by me. Lastly I need somewhat of a beta reader. I have two ideas for the ending, but i dunno which. so whoever does not mind the ending being spoiled, please leave a comment and i shall message you. Thanks! Hope you enjoyed! Finally got quasi in here. esmerelda and pheobus shall be back too!**


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